They come down like tiny gems.

Glistening in the starlight.

Gathering like teardrops on the eyelashes of a widow.

Precious and significant.

The house creaks under the gentle weight.

As I pick raindrops to bet my dreams on as they race.

***

They have lives too you know.

They have come so far.

Drawn down from God’s eyes.

To cast the shadow of a rainbow.

The tiny heralds of change.

Yes, they can arrive violently, but that is the cost of rebirth.

***

Hear that gentle sound.

The drip drip drip of a childhood gutter.

So carefully guided to the proper place.

Straight to where the need is greatest in the ground below.

Let it drown out the bad and nourish all that brings joy.

Like that pitter patter on your window.